Please Say You'll Wait For Me
by Isis1
Summary: Eli needs practice to get the hang of playing the guitar again. Grace joins Ant-Inflamatory. It's all GrEli, with friendships with Wink, Ted, and Coop.
1. Default Chapter

She was not the most beautiful girl - this she knew. And,   
  
it had been pointed out to her so many times by idiotic boys passing   
  
her in the hallways. Grace scratched out another word that she thought   
  
sounded too placid. Slamming her head on the keyboard of her computer,   
  
she thought she must have been the worst writer ever. She glanced over   
  
at the guitar that laid on her bed. Instantly, Grace scowled and flipped   
  
it off.   
  
Of course no one knew her Father had taught her how to play.   
  
Frankly, she believed that no one gave a damn. And, the guitar that   
  
was on her bed was mocking her right now. Yet, she smiled at the thought   
  
that her Father had given it to her: It was his when he was in a band so   
  
long ago. Chuckling, she thought of calling her Father old man from now on.   
  
No, she thought, he would not like that one bit - I think I'll do it.   
  
Grace opened up her poems file and scanned some poems she had   
  
written a couple years ago. Though, they were good in their own way,   
  
she blanched to think of what was on her mind back then. Then, one   
  
caught her eye, and she decided to make it a song. Soon, she thought   
  
of the perfect music to put to it. Oh, she pondered, I wouldn't want   
  
to do this for a living.   
  
Just as she started to pick at her guitar, music from below made   
  
her loose her train of thought. Grace scowled, and heard Eli's band start   
  
to play. Wondering briefly why they practicing here instead of   
  
Karen's . . . well, it was beyond her. She did not see what was so good   
  
about them anyway. Well, she did . . . but she hated it that they had   
  
played before people and she would be stuck as a nobody talent. It did   
  
not seem that bad, but if she had someone else to play guitar, Grace could   
  
simply sing and not have to concentrate on getting her fingers to dance correctly.   
  
"Please, say you'll wait for me . . ." she sang softly.   
  
Then, suddenly, a loud bang surrounded her. Oh, life was sweet   
  
for Grace: Anti-Inflamatory had just blown an amp. But, she could not   
  
resist, she ran down stairs heading toward the garage. She did not even   
  
bother to let go of her own guitar. The thought of even knocking before   
  
entering Eli's room never even entered her mind. She wanted to see the   
  
priceless look on his face - the look of horror, and anger. The band had   
  
been practincing for almost a week, on her Christmas vacation. It almost   
  
seemed that the world was existing to kick her in the ass. All she wanted   
  
to do was write, and she could not do that with them hogging up all the space.   
  
The door was all ready partly opened, so Grace slowly nudged it   
  
completely open with her foot. She almost died with laughter. They   
  
were all pointing at one another, blaming each other. The boys did   
  
not even know she was leaning in the doorway. It was one of the sweetest   
  
moments in her life, to see four boys in their early twenties running   
  
around like chickens with their heads cut off.   
  
Oh, and it got even better, Coop bent down to un-plug something.   
  
And, out of pure instinct, Grace glanced in that direction. He was taking   
  
his time, trying not burn his fingers. So, Grace tilted her head,   
  
with slightly parted lips.   
  
"God, his ass looks good in jeans,"   
  
Oh, crap, she thought, as all four turned to look at her.   
  
Oh, shit, she winced. Coop had stood up, mouth ajar, but clearly a  
  
mused. She could not believe she had said that out loud. But, oddly,   
  
she was not blushing; she was laughing even harder than before. Yes,   
  
the look on Eli's face was priceless, but the others - well, she really   
  
wished she had a camera.   
  
"What?" she asked, innocently, giving doe eyes, "his ass does look   
  
good in jeans."   
  
"Grace . . . " Eli started.   
  
"What happened?" she inquired, cutting him off.   
  
Coop kicked the blown amp, grinning as it fell over with   
  
a loud thud. She gave a lop-sided grin at his frustations being   
  
taken out on inanimate objects.   
  
"Shitty equipment," offered Ted.   
  
"Shitty guitarist," Wink added.   
  
Eli groaned loudly. That was all he needed, was them to   
  
him for the millionth time that he was way out of practice. Then,   
  
the guitar in Grace's hand caught his attention. It was a vintage   
  
model, and he found himself wanting to cradle it. He actually thought   
  
it was weird to see Grace holding a guitar. And, he pondered why she   
  
actually had one. Does she play, he asaked himself, she never said a   
  
damn thing to me.   
  
"What are you doing down here?" he asked, clearly agitated.   
  
"Oh, well it's not everyday something explodes in the house.   
  
I was hoping for a moment that it was your inflated head, but   
  
now that I see it isn't . . . "  
  
Grace trailed off, and began her way back to her room. She   
  
enjoyed the sounds of laughter from his friends. Now, she thought,   
  
I'll get all of them to be quiet and finished my damnable song.   
  
Bouncing with a happy step, Grace found her way to the living room,   
  
and decided to work on the song there.   
  
"All right, shut the hell up all ready, that was ten minutes ago," Eli   
  
whined, pulling a pillow over his face.   
  
"It was a good burn," Coop chuckled.   
  
Eli lounged on his bed, with Coop at his feet. Wink and Ted   
  
were trading with different kinds of chips with one another.   
  
"Pork rind for Dorito?" asked Wink, hopefully.   
  
"Deal," Ted grinned.   
  
"Uh-oh . . . " Wink did not finish.   
  
"What?"   
  
"No more Doritos,"   
  
"More pork rinds for me,"   
  
Coop was busy tuning Eli's guitar. He kind of felt angry at   
  
Eli at the moment. Out of the blue, he had called them up to practice.   
  
It had been months since they had done that. And, truth be told, Coop  
  
was hurt by Eli's non-chalance at just blowing them off. It also did   
  
not help that Eli was really sucky at the moment. But, on the upside   
  
of things, Eli had written some kickin' songs.   
  
"E, soda," Wink ordered.   
  
Eli tilted his head to look at the other boy. He let a   
  
look of confusion cross his features, then calmly flipped him off.   
  
He went back to looking at the ceiling. No one had to tell him that   
  
he was off these past few days. Quite frankly, he loathed not being   
  
able to play as well as he once had. And, at the moment everything   
  
and everyone was irking him, terribly.   
  
"You know where the damned kitchen is,"   
  
Not needing another answer, Wink jumped up and ran out of   
  
the garage. At the moment, Ted was throwing pork rinds up in the   
  
air and catching them in his mouth. He clearly had a useless talent.   
  
"What now?" Coop broke the silence.   
  
"Hit the pawn shops," Eli answered.   
  
Suddenly, Ted stood up and pushed Coop over to sit on the bed.   
  
He hung his head down, looking thoughtful for the moment. Something was   
  
bothering him incessantly. There was image that just did not quite fit,   
  
and he could not for his life figure it out.   
  
"E?" Ted learily, asked.   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Why did your Sister have a guitar?"   
  
"Step-sister, and my thoughts exactly," anwered Eli.   
  
Wink could clearly see Grace from his postion. And, it was not   
  
a bad postion at all. She had knocked over some magazines and was now   
  
picking them up. Her ass looks nice in jeans, he thought, then smiled   
  
at her earlier commment. Then, he hungrily went back to look for junk   
  
food. He rumaged through the pantry, his fingers grazing over pudding   
  
cups; he hated chocolate. Finally, he found some pretzels that he deemed   
  
worthy of consumption.   
  
Then, the sound of a guitar caught him off guard in mid-swallow.   
  
He looked back at Grace, and stared. She muttered a curse, and sratched   
  
out another word. Grace hummed a bit, and shook her head, crumpling up   
  
the piece of paper. She threw it behind, it landed far from the couch.   
  
Strongly, she began to sing unaware that prying ears were near.   
  
"Please, say you'll wait for me; I'll grow up someday you'll see. I'll   
  
save myself for you, but lend my kisses to someone new. I'm a little girl,   
  
And, you're a young man. Yet, I can't spill the truth, And, you don't   
  
understand. I've written you thousands of letters, That I'll never send.   
  
I've whispered to you sorrows, That you'll never comprehend. And, there's   
  
not gonna' be a tomorrow,"  
  
Grace groaned, and threw the guitar beside her on the couch. Placing   
  
a pillow over her face, she let out a frustrated scream. Wink cheekily,   
  
grinned: she obviously did not realize she was good. So, he waited for   
  
her to play some more. Because from what he had seen, she was resiliant -   
  
very resiliant, and he knew she was not going to give up that easily. Finally,   
  
he decided to say something.   
  
"Is that it?"   
  
Instantaneously, Grace threw the pillow aside and stood up. She   
  
was completely embarrased, and she could feel the heat on her face. Thinking   
  
for a moment, she tried to remember which boy stood before her. Grace recalled   
  
he had an unusual name . . .   
  
"Wink," she spat out.   
  
"That's me," he shoved some more pretzels in his mouth.   
  
Grace frowned slightly, as he munched loudly. He obviously did not   
  
realize that he had royally pissed her off. Guitar in hand, she walked to   
  
the kitchen. He was completly oblivious to what she was about to do. Wink   
  
smirked as she strode toward him, his eyes lingering on her hips a bit longer   
  
than they should have. Then, she slapped him on the shoulder. Of course it   
  
did not hurt, but he dropped the bag of pretzels, and held his arm none the   
  
less. She hit him again in the exact same spot on his other arm; he yelped   
  
in surprise more than anything else.   
  
"You bastard!" she screamed, "You were spying on me."   
  
"Hey," he threw his hands up in surrender, "I was hungry - looking for food.   
  
Maybe you should watch where you're playing the next time."   
  
His nonchalant grin only served to infuriate her more. Grace glared   
  
at him, waiting for an apology. So, the two stood there, gawking at one   
  
another. Wink was casually standing in the kitchen, taking in all of the   
  
girl before him. She was not beautiful, but a plain kind of pretty; with   
  
dark hair and dark eyes, and slightly turned up nose. To him, she was cute -   
  
especially with that scowl on her face.   
  
"Well?" she said, crossing her arms across her chest.   
  
"Well, what, Little Sister?"   
  
"An apology, you big oaf!"   
  
Wink tilted his head like a befuddled dog would. He brought up his   
  
hand to his chin, rubbing freshly shaven flesh. Making a pondering noise, he   
  
tapped his foot slowly. Then, Grace caught a hint of mischief in his eyes.   
  
She did not like that look: it was similar to the one Eli got when he was going   
  
to do something she hated.   
  
"Shan't," and he tugged on her hair for good measure.   
  
Grace lunged at Wink and he took a step back. Then, Grace proceeded   
  
to chase him around the island in the middle of the kitchen. Both of their   
  
eyes were dancing with fire. The exhillaration of running after one another   
  
was humouring both of them. Grace had been almost bored to tears over her   
  
holiday. The newness of Christmas presents had wourn off long ago. For   
  
Wink it was pretty much the same thing, except he was more sexually frustrated;   
  
having a pretty brown-eyed girl chase him, sort of enthralled him.   
  
"Wink!" she screamed, as he jumped onto the couch.  
  
He was not that graceful though: he fell on his backside on the floor   
  
on the other side of the couch. A loud thud echoed loudly in Grace's ears.   
  
She grabbed onto the back of the couch and leaned over. Wink was laying on his   
  
back, eyes closed, and she could not tell if he was breathing.   
  
Quickly, Grace hopped over the couch, dropping her guitar behind her.   
  
She kneeled next to him, gently poking his arm. There was no movement. A   
  
flash of fear crossed her countenance. And, she leaned over him further.   
  
Taking him by the shoulders, she shook him slightly. Still, there was nothing.   
  
Grace leaned forward - face to face with him, to see if he was still breathing.   
  
Suddenly, Wink grabbed her and flipped her over, tickling her sides.   
  
Oh, no, was the last thought she had as she saw his eyes fly open. Grace   
  
screamed and screeched, begging him to stop. He did not stop, and continued   
  
joyfully - mercilessly to tickle her.   
  
Eli, Coop, and Ted had heard a few shouts and screams, and then a   
  
parade of screeching. Of course they thought that someone was being murderd,   
  
or tortured. So, they filed out the basement, running toward the sounds.   
  
Pass the kitchen, they barely heard pretzels breaking beneath their feet.   
  
Hearing more screaming, they stooped before they came to near too   
  
the couch. An idle guitar lay before their feet; Eli picked up, revelling   
  
in the feel of it. It was warm, old, and in very good condition. He tested   
  
its weight quickly, but a voice made him come out of his reverie.   
  
"Oh, Wink," she gasped, " . . . stop fucking with me!"   
  
The three left out boys peered over the couch, shocked to see a   
  
flushed, happy Wink straddling Grace. Eli hesitated, because words to   
  
say totally espcaped him. While Coop and Ted opted for tilted heads,   
  
enjoying the show. Then, swiftly, Eli found his voice.   
  
"What the fuck is going on?" his tone sounded strange to him - too strange.   
  
Abruptly, all movement between Grace and Wink stopped. They   
  
looked up, and were surprised to find three pairs of eyes watching them   
  
intently. Grace grimaced at the look on Eli's face. If her Father had   
  
been there, she was sure that would be the look that he would be giving   
  
them at the moment.   
  
"Get off of her!"   
  
For a moment, Wink stayed glued to his spot on top of Grace.   
  
He was vaguely aware of what Eli had said, but he took it as to be bad -   
  
he stood up. Grace rolled over, clumsily; she stood up and walked toward   
  
Eli. She stuck out her hand, wanting her guitar back. Eli did not   
  
understand at first: all he saw was crimson. He had never imagined   
  
Grace with other guys, let alone see one of his friends straddling her.   
  
She was simply Grace; a girl that he still remembered being fourteen and  
  
shy.   
  
"Eli, stop fingering my guitar. It looks dirty when you hold it like that,"   
  
Grace yanked the guitar from him.   
  
She sat down on the couch, staring at the piece of paper on the   
  
coffee table. The song was complete, and she wanted to practice it more.   
  
But, she did not want them around - well, Wink had all ready heard her, so   
  
it did not really matter if he did. Still dumbstruck by Eli's outburst,   
  
Wink shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled out of the living room.   
  
Soon the others followed.   
  
The band sat at the kitchen table, drinking, eating, and not talking.   
  
There was a heavy silence that hung in the air. Even tension stung the air;   
  
it was new experience for the four. The pretzels had been swept up by Wink   
  
long ago, but suddenly his hunger did not seem that great.   
  
"Fuck, will you two stop having a fucking pissing match all ready.   
  
'Cause it's bull shit!" Coop broke the silence.   
  
"Huh?" came from Eli and Wink.   
  
"Wink, just apologize for tickling his sister . . ."  
  
"Step-sister," Eli interrupted.   
  
"Yeah, step-sister, and we can go scout for a new amp," Coop finished the   
  
last of his soda.   
  
"Oh, sorry, E. Little Sister was just playing and singing, and got all   
  
flustered that I heard, and well one thing led to another, and she hit me.   
  
Of course it didn't hurt none," Wink tried to keep some of his pride in tact.   
  
"She was what?" asked Coop, intrigued.   
  
"Playing her guitar, and singing a song she wrote,"   
  
"Really?" asked Eli.   
  
Wink nodded and glanced at Ted's vanilla ice cream. Suddenly,   
  
his appetite came back to him. So, he busied himself trying to con Ted   
  
out of his food.   
  
"Was she any good?" Coop inquried, raising an eyebrow.   
  
"Huh," he asked, forgetting what they were talking about, "oh, yeah   
  
totally - deep voice - nice."   
  
And, Ted walked to the living room, with Wink following him   
  
intent on getting that damn bowl of ice cream. Eli stared at his best   
  
friend. He wondered why suddenly Coop, and everyone else seem so interested   
  
in Grace. It was making him feel a bit envious. All his friends seemed   
  
intrigued by her, and her musical talents.   
  
"Eli, you know if she . . . "  
  
"You want to replace me with her?"   
  
"No - no, not in the guitar area, but you play a lot better when you   
  
don't do both at the same time,"   
  
"Thanks, pal," Eli replied, sarcastically.   
  
"Damn, you've been in a pissy mood all week, what crawled up your . . ."   
  
he was interrupted by Grace running into the kitchen.   
  
She stopped in mid-step looking at Eli and Coop. Grace grinned   
  
at Eli, winking at him. She went to the fridge and pulled some orange   
  
juice, drinking straight from box. Coop looked to Eli, then back to   
  
Grace's back. There was something in Eli's gaze that made Coop think   
  
that Eli was not just giving her a "brotherly" glance.   
  
"When'd you learn how to play?" questioned Eli, curiously.   
  
"Dad taught me, why, when did you learn?" she put the juice back   
  
and sat down at the table, grabbing a few cookies.   
  
"You never said anything,"   
  
"You never asked,"   
  
They stared of one another, Grace taking a cue from Wink,   
  
started to much loudly and cheekily. Coop smiled: the girl could   
  
almost be the female version of Wink, and himself combined. And,   
  
the girl had spunk - he liked spunk. So, Coop could not help himself   
  
when he just blurted out the question.   
  
"Will you sing for us?"   
  
"Huh?" Grace and Eli asked in unison.   
  
"Wink said you were . . . "  
  
"That oafy-bastard! I'll kill him!" Grace stood up.   
  
She ran toward the living room, and soon Eli and Coop heard   
  
screaming, and then mocking laughter. But, it was hilarious when Wink   
  
came running out of the living room, heading straight for the door.   
  
He cast a menacing glare toward his band mates, then raced outside.   
  
Grace came back to the kitchen, carrying an empty bowl. She casually   
  
threw it in the sink, crossing her arms across her chest.   
  
Ted strolled in, taking a seat beside Eli. The band stared   
  
at Grace. Suddenly, she whipped around, steam coming out of her ears.   
  
Uh-oh, Coop thought, cringing, this doesn't bode well for us. Ted   
  
broke the silence.   
  
"Please, Little Sister - Wink said you were good. Really good,"   
  
Ted made a sad puppy face.   
  
Grace scoffed, rolling her eyes. She stared blankly at Ted,   
  
wishing he did not have to make that face. Recognizing the face   
  
instantly, she turned her attention Eli: it was same face he made   
  
when he wanted something.   
  
"Ted, that face doesn't work for E, and it won't work for you. I   
  
don't understand why everyone's so hung up on me singing. I'm not   
  
a Jessie," she stated, determined not to break.   
  
Unfortunately, all three started the sad puppy look, and   
  
she threw up her hands in aggrivation. Then, Wink opened the door,   
  
poking his head in. He glanced at his three friends, and out of   
  
instinct his face mirrored theirs.   
  
"No, not you, too," groaned Grace.   
  
"Just once. It's not everyday you see a girl with a guitar who   
  
can sing, and play," Eli offered a lop-sided grin.   
  
If only he knew, she thought, that song she just wrote   
  
was bout him, and that that grin what was she loved the best about   
  
him. Grace started to shake her head, then threw her hands up in   
  
the air once more. She stomped her way to her room.   
  
"Grace . . ." Eli began, but she cut him off.   
  
"I'm going to get my guitar. I'll see you in the garage,   
  
you god-damned pushy bastards!"   
  
"Guess the fire's been put out,"  
  
"For now," concluded Eli.   
  
Wink walked back in and headed toward the garage. Coop and   
  
Ted followed, leaving a bewildered Eli plastered to his seat. It was   
  
odd, he deducted, he never thought of just being a guitarist, but not   
  
singing did not really bother him. It would be nice just play, and not   
  
worry about his voice not cracking. Then, he wondered if Wink was just   
  
being nice to Grace, so her feelings would not get hurt. No, he concluded,   
  
that can't be right - Wink's never just nice, unless there's something in   
  
it for him.   
  
Grace scowled as she sat on Eli's bed. She looked at the four   
  
boys seated on the floor in front of her. They looked so damn comfortable   
  
to her; while she was nervous as hell. She strummed her guitar, testing   
  
it and herself.   
  
"If any one of you laugh - I'll murder you, 'kay?"   
  
"Noted," Wink said, grinning cheekily.   
  
"Will I get chased by you if I do?" asked Coop, winking at her.   
  
Eli groaned. He really thought that Coop flirted with anything   
  
that had tits. Well, he shuddered, there are some men . . . He willed   
  
himself not to go there. So, he impatiently tapped his fingers on his   
  
floor - waiting. Grace cleared her throat and began, still blushing a bit . . .   
  
"Please, say you'll wait for me,  
  
I'll grow up someday you'll see.   
  
I'll save myself for you,  
  
But, lend my kisses to someone new.   
  
I'm a girl youth,   
  
And, you're a young man.   
  
Yet, I can't spill the truth,  
  
And, you don't understand.   
  
I've written you thousands of letters,  
  
That I'll never send.   
  
I've whispered to you sorrows,  
  
That you'll never hear.   
  
And, there's not gonna' be a tomorrow,  
  
'Cause you're not gonna' be there.   
  
Please, say you'll wait for me,  
  
I'll grow up someday you'll see.   
  
I'll save myself for you,  
  
But, lend my kisses to someone new.   
  
You walk by, and don't seem to care,  
  
But, when we're alone - I think you see me.   
  
So, why do you mold yourself to that girl with the short hair?  
  
When I want to be your everything.   
  
I'm a little girl,  
  
And, you're a young man.   
  
But, I see the reality of the world,  
  
A reality you just can't stand.   
  
You keep screwing up,  
  
And, I keep taking you back.   
  
Maybe I'll get lucky,  
  
And, you'll see who I am.  
  
Please, say you'll wait for me,  
  
I'll grow up someday you'll see.   
  
I'll save myself for you,  
  
But, lend my kisses to someone new."   
  
Grace fell still, as did the rest of the band. So, she   
  
stared down at her hands, willing them to say something - anything.   
  
Grace wanted to run out the room, screaming, if she stayed and heard   
  
quietness for another second. Then, she felt the need to tell them   
  
something - after all they were the ones begging and pleading a few   
  
moments ago.   
  
"I know - I know, I tried to warn you guys - I suck. But, I'll   
  
still kill you if you laugh," she stood up, but Eli stopped her.   
  
He stood with her, grinning much like he had just stolen   
  
all of the cookies out of the biggest cookie jar in the world.   
  
Grace was severly confused. Why is he so damned happy, she thought.   
  
He pulled her to him and hugged her tightly.   
  
"E - can't - breathe . . ."  
  
"Oh, sorry - no more singing for me . . . "  
  
"You play like shit now . . . " Ted chimed in honestly.  
  
"And, you sound even worse, man," Wink added.   
  
"Hey, don't I get a say in this?" Grace asked, placing her hands on her hips.   
  
But the boys had all ready sprung from their places, talking   
  
about where to get a new amp. She felt out of place: one she was the   
  
only girl there, two they were huddled in a tight circle, whispering.   
  
She crossed her arms across her chest, closing her eyes in annoyance.   
  
Suddenly, she felt an arm grab her and pull her into the circle.   
  
"Little Sister," Wink told her, "talk all you want." 


	2. You Don't Know It

Author's Note:   
  
I suppose I should have said this in the first chapter. I am   
  
a starving artist, also known as a muscian, and poet. All the songs featured in this   
  
story are written by me. I wish I could get the rest of the band off their   
  
lazy asses and help me write some new ones, though. I seriously think the guys hang   
  
around my house just to eat all my food; that or try and drive me to suicide   
  
(titters insanely.)   
  
I am trying to insert at least one song in each chapter. In the first chapter,   
  
the song is called, Please, Say You'll Wait For Me. In the second chapter, it is   
  
called, You Don't Know It. Well, for those of you who don't like the lyrics - I am  
  
what I am, and no one can change that - not even bad reviews.   
  
Thank you, to all of those who have reviewed, and to   
  
Grace Manning sat on Eli Sammler's bed; alone, and very frustrated.   
  
Though his room was always cluttered, and very messy - it was more so at the   
  
moment. A spiral notebook lay in front of her, while ripped, balled up pages   
  
were strewn about. It looked as if it had snowed recycled paper. Suddenly,   
  
she felt the urge to make a snow angels amongst the balls of paper, and dirty   
  
clothes. So, she opted for turning her guitar on it's front, then proceeded   
  
to bang her head continuously.   
  
Grace found that the dull thud let out her frustation due to writer's   
  
block. She had written one song, and everyone told her it was good. One song,   
  
she thought, angrily, that's all I got - I need more. A pleather bound book was   
  
off to her left, holding all her poems, sonnets, and odes - even prose was   
  
scattered through the worn pages. And, after studying all of her writings,   
  
she could not figure out how to make them into music.   
  
For her, the melody was simple to think of. It depended on the poem,   
  
really: if it was a lamentful poem, then it would be a slow song; if an outraged,   
  
or angry poem, it would be fast. That was the only simple part of turning a poem   
  
into a song. Sighing heavily, Grace ceased trying beat some inspiration into her   
  
mind. She leaned on the cool surface of her guitar, breathing in the musty scent   
  
that littered Eli's room. There were traces of the Irish Spring soap scent,   
  
dabbed with a tiny bit of pot, then cigarettes. She thought it odd how he never   
  
wore cologne, yet his soap seemed to substitute for it.   
  
What was even more odd, was that he smoked - mostly cigarettes now -   
  
but the smell never seemed to linger long enough to disgust her. Laughing,   
  
she told herself she must be some kind of freak for pondering Eli's scents,   
  
rather than working on her song. The spiral notebook was laughing at her   
  
right now, she decided. It seemed that everything was doing that now a days.   
  
With a feeling of utter despair at only having some of the new song she was   
  
working on, she went back to bashing her forehead against her vintage guitar.   
  
Without warning, the garage door swung open, but Grace continued a   
  
rhythmic thud anyway. The sound of the door shutting did not come to her   
  
ears. Eli smirked as he stood near the doorway: she was very amusing after   
  
what he had been through today. He shook his head, silently making his way   
  
over to her. Swiftly, he stuck his hand between her head and guitar, stopping   
  
her belittling of herself.   
  
Grace might have been startled normally. But, she was used to having   
  
people just show up unexpectantly. Ever since a few days ago, she felt like   
  
she got no time to herself. Over the past few days, Eli, Wink, Coop, or Ted   
  
had barged in to her bedroom, ranting about this or that. She was happy her   
  
door had a lock on it. When the rest of the band was not inhaling the food   
  
at the Manning/Sammler house, she snuck away to the garage. Then, she was   
  
glad that Eli was working most of those times.   
  
If it's not the guys bugging the hell out me, she cursed, it's Zoe   
  
- I can tolerate Jessie most of the time, because she does not jump up and   
  
down when telling me something. Each of the guys had their own signature   
  
complaint, that they felt that they had to share with Grace. Almost instantly   
  
she became their seragant Mother, and little Sister all at once.   
  
Coop had a problem with girls, Grace had surmised. Not that he did   
  
not have numerous girlfriends, to which Grace scourned, and thought less of   
  
him. It was that he could not talk to them, in the sense that every word that   
  
came out of his mouth was something piggish, shovanistic, or just plain crude.   
  
But, Grace did not blame him: he was raised by his Father, and had four   
  
Brothers. And, he had absolutely no intuition, simply he lacked common sense.   
  
Ted was the pessimist, as well as the strategist. While the others   
  
opted for acting in the heat of the moment, he thought about what came after.   
  
Grace admired him for this fact, thinking that he would make a nice boyfriend.   
  
Ted, like Eli saw nothing in his own future, and he now worked along side of   
  
Eli at Booklovers. With being labeled the emotional one, he allowed himself   
  
to get walked over - a lot. So, Grace took it upon herself to make him take   
  
a stand . . .   
  
Which leads to Wink, Grace thought, allowing an amused grin to   
  
grow upon her face. He was not exactly the easiest person to get along   
  
with, nor was he the most interesting. Yet, Grace liked him for some   
  
unfathomable reason: he was funny, excentric, and he had a nice ass, too.   
  
But, he seemed so simple minded to her. There were three things that were   
  
always on Wink's mind: food, sex, and music. Then, there was self-centeredness.   
  
She found that he never did anything really kind, unless there was something in   
  
it for him. And, to Grace's astoundment, he has a softer side: he revealed   
  
that he could not stand to see a girl cry. Wow, she had thought, and could   
  
not speak to him for hours.   
  
"Do that enough, and you might actually get a brain," teased Eli.   
  
Pulling off his work shirt, he plopped on his bed, causing   
  
rippling effects to overcome Grace. It was frightening, she thought.   
  
If two weeks ago she had seen Eli shirtless, she would have blushed   
  
ferociously, and would have run the opposite direction. Now, here he was -   
  
his foot currently poking her in the back. She slapped his leg away, pulling   
  
her pleather book out from under his knees.   
  
"Ass," Grace proclaimed.   
  
"You know you love it,"   
  
Being the ever mature girl that she was, Grace calmly turned   
  
her head to stick her tongue out at him. This only served for him to   
  
smirk, then flip her off. Shaking her head, she started mulling over   
  
her writings. Grace threw the book down to floor, uttering a small   
  
stream of curses.   
  
"You kiss your Mother with that mouth?"   
  
"That's a little bit of the pot calling the kettle black,"  
  
"Touche. Let me hear what you've got,"   
  
"Not 'til it's finished,"   
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake . . . Just play it all ready!" Eli sat up,   
  
glaring at her slightly.   
  
"Bad day?"   
  
"You have no fucking idea,"   
  
Eli crawled over toward Grace on his stomach. He laid his head   
  
on her legs, waiting for her to play something. In truth, he had come   
  
to enjoy hearing her musings. There was something in her words - sorrow -   
  
longing - need? Eli gave up trying to figure out Grace; he simply wanted to   
  
hear her voice. Grace strummed her guitar a bit, then began a fast sort of   
  
tune, which grabbed his attention immediately . . .   
  
"Play with fire and you're gonna' get wet:  
  
I have a strong will, and I'm gonna' stay set  
  
Play with water and you're gonna get burned:   
  
I may be young, but I've already learned . . .  
  
But, then I look at you with your spiked brown hair,  
  
Hazel-Green eyes,  
  
And the scowl you wear . . .   
  
And, you don't know it, but you'll be my demise - my demise, and   
  
yeah, you don't know it."   
  
She continued to play the music, and pondered over words. Eli,   
  
absent-mindedly tapped his fingers to the beat. It was good, and different   
  
from her first song - a mixture of alternative and rock, and something he   
  
could not quite detect. Suddenly, she stooped and placed her guitar on the   
  
floor. Eli moved his head to her lap, and she instinctively started to play   
  
with his hair.   
  
"It's so hard to transfer poetry to song. But, not becauses poetry isn't   
  
music, it's the . . . "   
  
"The chorus," he finished for her, eyes closed.   
  
"Yeah . . . I don't see how anyone does this for a living. Probably a   
  
hell of a lot better writers than me - probably better inspiration, too,"   
  
"Where did you used to get it from, huh?" Eli opened his eyes, catching   
  
her gaze.   
  
"Oh," Grace swallowed, finding her mouth to suddenly be dry, "people -   
  
certain people."   
  
Grace smiled, and Eli shut his eyes once more. She could tell   
  
instantly that he was exhausted, and she pondered of just leaving him to   
  
get some rest. Grace stirred slightly, but was surprised when he grabbed   
  
her waist.   
  
"Mmm," he mumbled, "stay."   
  
"Oh, yeah, that's easy for you to say. You get to use my thighs a plush   
  
pillow, and I get left with a big sitting up fuck you. Well, I'll have   
  
you know, Eli, I am not a god-damned . . . "   
  
Swiftly, Eli sat up, turned and pulled them toward his pillows.   
  
He laid on his stomach, pushing her to his side. It left her flat on her   
  
back, with his right arm draped around her mid-drift. Grace barely realized   
  
what had happped. She was in the middle of starting a big lecture. Damn,   
  
she cursed Eli Sammler, I was going to let him have it - whatever it is.   
  
"I'm not staying in your . . ."  
  
Eli clamped his hand over her mouth, and left there for a few moments.   
  
"Shut up, Grace," he said into his pillow, "you talk too damn much."   
  
Grace scoffed, and closed her eyes. She felt Eli move, then   
  
darkness washed over them. When she felt his lithe body next to her,   
  
she froze momentarily. Her life flashed before her eyes, when thinking   
  
what her Mother would say if she caught them in this situation. Then,   
  
Eli pulled her to rest on his chest. Maybe she should have been a bit   
  
un-nerved at falling asleep with him.   
  
But, it was just a few days ago, she had slept between Eli and Coop   
  
on this very same bed. It was accidental, they were practicing, bull-shitting,   
  
and picking on Eli. It was when all five of them got together, the other four   
  
ganged up on Eli. It really pissed him off. So, they did it as often as they   
  
could. But, when she had slept between Coop and Eli, it was liking having a   
  
guard dog on either side of her. Now, so close to Eli, she deemed him a big   
  
teddy bear. With this last thought, she drifted off to sleep.   
  
Eli awoke to hearing a guitar being played rapidly, and quite well.   
  
He groaned, rubbed his eyes, then decided to turn on his soft-glow lamp, rather   
  
than switch on the ceiling light. Eli moaned, as his eyes adjusted to the light.   
  
What he saw was quite possibly the most beautiful sight he could have imagined.   
  
Off to the right of his bed, Grace sat in a wooden chair, playing her guitar.   
  
From his view, he could see just the right-side of her profile - it was a nice view.   
  
He took in all that she wore. Grace's garb was simple night-wear:   
  
baggy, snow-camo pants, and a tight fitting black, long-sleeved shirt. Her   
  
hair was down, suffering from a terrible case of bed-head. Eli was drawn   
  
to her hands - she did not have exceeding long fingers. No wonder she sings   
  
better, he thought. Grace had failed to notice Eli awake. Even the light   
  
coming on did not break her from the trance.   
  
She had woken up in Eli's arms - this scared the hell out of her.   
  
She had gently removed herself from his embrace, then was about to make a   
  
b-line for the door. Then, she had seen pale moonlight engulf his troubled   
  
face. And, that's when she realized that she wanted him to be her inspiration   
  
once more. She had shuffled through clothes, cds, picks, drumsticks - all on   
  
his floor - to find her spiral notebook - her rough-draft notebook. Grace   
  
barely flinched when her hands had found his boxers, and un-opened condoms.   
  
Eventually she had found the notebook, shoved carelessly under the bed,   
  
compliments of his large feet. Grace began to write . . . and the rest   
  
was history.   
  
Now, she started the song over, and sang. Eli was captivated by   
  
her motivation: it was three a.m., and she was wide awake. He simply   
  
listened, that was all he could do for the time being . . .  
  
"Play with fire and you're gonna' get wet:  
  
I have a strong will, and I'm gonna' stay set  
  
Play with water and you're gonna get burned:   
  
I may be young, but I've already learned . . .  
  
But, then I look at you with your spiked brown hair,  
  
Hazel-Green eyes,  
  
And the scowl you wear . . .   
  
And, you don't know it, but you'll be my demise - my demise,   
  
and yeah, you don't know it.  
  
The ways of the world are the ways of men:  
  
Yeah, they're gonna' be Her descent,  
  
The ways of men are the ways of war:  
  
They're gonna' cut Her open and leave her sore.  
  
But, then I look at you with your spiked brown hair,  
  
Hazel-Green eyes,  
  
And the scowl you wear . . .   
  
And, you don't know it, but you'll be my demise - my demise,   
  
and yeah, you don't know it.  
  
So, slice my flesh and leave me to bleed,  
  
I know even that won't make you see,  
  
I'm only mortal, but I'll still heal.   
  
You'll open the gates of hell when you take my will.  
  
But, then I look at you with your spiked brown hair,  
  
Hazel-Green eyes,  
  
And the scowl you wear . . .   
  
And, you don't know it, but you'll be my demise - my demise, and   
  
yeah, you don't know it."   
  
Finally, Grace was at piece. The music - the words were out and   
  
she could rest. Setting he guitar on the floor, she stood up. She glanced   
  
at Eli, surprised to find him awake, and seemingly wide-eyed. Offering a   
  
lop-side grin, she trotted out of his room, and back to hers. With the   
  
concluding thud of his door shutting, Eli turned off the lamp, sighing.   
  
There was something about her words; so harrowing to him. They actually   
  
made him want ponder over each and every stanza. With troubled thoughts,   
  
Eli Sammler fell to slumber's clutches.   
  
Author's Note: I altered the song so it would fit Grace's writings.   
  
The original version is as follows:  
  
Play with fire and you're gonna' get wet:  
  
I have a strong will, and I'm gonna' stay set  
  
Play with water and you're gonna get burned:   
  
I may be young, but I've already learned . . .  
  
But, then I look at you with your white blonde hair,  
  
Cool grey eyes,  
  
And the scowl you wear . . .   
  
And, you don't know it, but you'll be my demise - my demise,   
  
and yeah you don't know it.   
  
  
  
The ways of the world are the ways of men:  
  
Yeah, they're gonna' be Her descent,  
  
The ways of men are the ways of war:  
  
They're gonna' cut her open and leave her sore.  
  
But, then I look at you with your white blonde hair,  
  
Cool grey eyes,  
  
And the scowl you wear . . .  
  
And, you don't know it but, you'll be my demise - my demise,   
  
and yeah you don't know it.  
  
  
  
So, slice my flesh and leave me to bleed,  
  
I know even that won't make you see,  
  
I'm only mortal, but I'll still heal.   
  
You'll open the gates of hell when you take my will.  
  
But, then I look at you with your white blonde hair,  
  
Cool grey eyes,   
  
And the scowl you wear . . .   
  
And, you don't know it but, you'll be my demise - my demise,   
  
and yeah you just don't know it. 


	3. A Little Girl

Grace was writing on her computer; a story seeming to leap from her   
  
fingertips the longer she sat there. It was a good story in her opinion, rather   
  
short but amusing none the less. She had been sitting there for an hour, and she   
  
was vaguely aware that her ass had fallen asleep. But it did not really matter -   
  
she was in zone.   
  
So, when many feet were clomping up the stairs, Grace failed to take   
  
notice of it. The last thing she remembered was a lot of excited yelling.   
  
Then, being picked up by Ted and swung around. Grace felt almost sick as Ted   
  
threw her on the bed. Landing on her side, she looked at the four boys that had   
  
just invaded her room. It was too priceless for words to her: they were dancing   
  
around like they had just won the super bowl.   
  
Suddenly, Wink waltzed over and pulled her to her feet. She felt   
  
dizzy, and confused at all the commotion. He started dance her around the  
  
room. Grace frantically clutched his shoulders, feeling as if though her   
  
world were a roller closer. Meanwhile, Eli had found himself a seat at the   
  
chair by her computer, while Ted and Coop opted for jumping on her perfectly   
  
made bed.   
  
Finally, Wink stopped his very bad dancing, and let her go.   
  
Instantaneously, she sunk to the ground, with her legs sprawled out in   
  
front of her. Coop and Ted now lounged on her bed, grinning ear to ear.   
  
She glanced at Eli - he gave a smirk.  
  
"Did I miss something?" he asked, catching her breath.   
  
"We got a gig, Little Sister," Coop announced, raising both his eyebrows.   
  
"A place downtown," added Ted.   
  
"A popular place downtown," interjected Eli.   
  
"And?" she asked.   
  
Eli removed himself from the chair, offering a hand to   
  
help her up - she took it. Grace smoothed out her pants, then took   
  
her place at her computer chair once more.   
  
"'Member that demo we made a few days ago?" asked Eli, gleefully.   
  
"Yeah," she answered, hesitantly.   
  
"Well, we passed around a few copies," continued Eli.   
  
"More like I passed around a few hundred copies," Ted remarked.   
  
"It got around, and the rest is history, Litle Sister," Wink finished the tale.   
  
Grace was befuddled. She had never expected this, that   
  
was for sure. She had always summed up her being part of the band   
  
as having something to do on the weekends. It was just something to   
  
keep her from tearing out her hair from studying for the SAT's, and   
  
finals. Thinking that she would be going to the local community college   
  
for some Literature classes, she figured that music was just a hobby to   
  
keep her down to earth.   
  
"They like the way I sang?"   
  
"Always about you, huh?" scoffed Coop.   
  
"They like the way we - we, Grace, sounded," Eli clarified for her.   
  
"Besides everyone knows that everyone goes for the guitarists,"   
  
Wink bounced on his feet.   
  
"No way - drummers get all the chicks," Ted felt like he needed to   
  
save some of his pride.   
  
Grace shook her head, thinking that it was foolish to hope   
  
for something that big. They were talking like they were going to   
  
have a concert. So, she pushed down her hopes for actually making   
  
it somewhere. Though, Grace could not help to ponder over what it   
  
would be like to be well known.   
  
"I don't know anything about chicks, but lead singers get all the   
  
attention," Grace giggled.   
  
"Self-centered," Eli rolled his eyes.   
  
"Learned it from you, sweetie,"   
  
And, that was how Lily found Grace running down the stairs   
  
with four boys chasing after her. They all rushed into the kitchen,   
  
stopping when they saw Lily fixing dinner, with Jessie assisting.   
  
Bursting into uncontrollable laughter, Anti-Inflamatory walked on   
  
toward Eli's room.   
  
Eli and Grace allowed the others to go on first. Grace was   
  
slightly un-nerved about asking her Mother. It seemed so odd to ask   
  
permission: she was an adult - at least in the law's eyes. But, she   
  
still had five months left of high school. Not to mention that the   
  
club they were going to play at served alcohol. Shaking her head,   
  
she grinned brightly at her Mother.   
  
"Uh-oh," Lily proclaimed, "what do you want?"   
  
"Anti-Inflamatory got a gig, and well . . . " began Eli.   
  
"For one it's downtown; two it's an adult kind of place," finished   
  
Grace, turning her eyes to the floor.   
  
"Gracie . . . " Grace cut her Mother off.   
  
"The good news is that it's not on a school night. Please?"   
  
Lily eyed her daughter, sternly. It was not that she did not   
  
incourage Grace to express herself in anyway she wanted; it was that   
  
the band was becomming everything to her. She did not want Grace to   
  
be let down to fact that most starving artists, stay starving artist.   
  
Quite literally. Sighing, Lily covered a pot on the stove.   
  
"Jessie, Eli, can you leave us alone for a moment?"   
  
Eli cast a sorrowful look at Grace, which served to make Grace   
  
feel like she despair all ready. It was almosst a given, to her, that   
  
Lily would deny her what made her happy. She could not see the gentleness   
  
in her Mother's eyes, nor the caring in her hands. Jessie left silently,   
  
walking back to her attic room. Going as slow as possible Eli ambled out,   
  
dragging his feet. Lily rolled her eyes in a Grace-like manner.   
  
"Grace, I want you to know that I think your music is good. And, it makes you   
  
happy, so that's good, too. But," she paused, "I don't want your heart to get   
  
broken. You're going to find out that there are a thousand other bands out there   
  
that are better than you, and they don't make it anywhere. Go to college,   
  
Gracie - get a degree, and make something of yourself,"   
  
Grace turned red in the face with pure alabaster rage. She could not   
  
believe the gall of her own Mother. It seemed to her that she thought of her   
  
as a mere child, chasing a hopless fantasy. Crossing her arms against her chest,   
  
Grace pursed her lips, knowing that her Mother was far from done.   
  
"I'm only telling you this for . . ."  
  
"For my own good, Mother." she spat. "Well, let me tell you something - I don't   
  
expect to be anything. I could care less if this is the last gig we ever get.   
  
Music is something I cherish - it helps to unwind, and not go postal worker.   
  
And, come to think of it, I remember you saying that you wanted to be a clothes   
  
designer - this seems like the speech your Mother gave you, hmm?"   
  
Lily blanched. Once again, she was startled by Grace. She grinned,   
  
saddly, remembering when a few years ago Grace was so self-conscious, and under  
  
spoken. Now, was a girl - no a young woman, who had broken out to be an unique   
  
being, with an astounding talent for writing. Before Lily could say anymore,   
  
Grace stomped off to the garage. She did not need to be reprimanded. What she   
  
needed was to practice, and convince the others to get off their lazy asses to   
  
help her write some lyrics.  
  
Eli threw a rubber ball against one of the garage walls. He caught   
  
it with ease each time it bounced back. Alternating his glances from the   
  
ball to Grace, he became even more nervous. One of his legs shook, and he   
  
kept looking at his watch. Grace on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm,   
  
for someone who was about to perform in front of hundreds of people for the   
  
first time. And, to top it all off, she had not even finished the song she   
  
was going to play that night.   
  
"Is it finished, yet?" Eli whined.   
  
"I swear to fucking god, Eli - if you ask me that one more time . . . "  
  
Grace continued scribbling furiously in a spiral notebook. Gritting   
  
his teeth, Eli caught the ball for the final time. He laid back on his bed,   
  
taking deep breaths. Though he tried to calm himself, it would not work like   
  
it had before. Of course he had had gigs before. Some of them paid, and some   
  
did not. Some were big, and others just mere coffee houses. But, tonight there  
  
were going to be promoters there - ones with big connections.   
  
Looking at the back of Grace's head, then to the ball in his hand - he   
  
took a chance: Eli threw the ball at her head. It made contact. Instantly,   
  
Grace grabbed her head, screeching more out of surprise than pain. She stood   
  
up, face scarlet with anger. Then, she launched herself on Eli. Laughing at   
  
her futile attempts to harm him, he let her hit him for a while. Suddenly, he   
  
flipped her over, capturing her hands above her head. Struggling for a few minutes,   
  
Grace finally subserved and lay still.   
  
"Now, how are you gonna' get out of this one, hmm?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.   
  
If she had given herself time to think it through, Grace would have   
  
never even dreamed of it. It was the fact that she had to finish writing her   
  
song, shower, get dressed, eat something, and take out the garbage that weighed   
  
heavily on her mind: this made her loose her regular meager mind-set. She   
  
mustered all of her strength, propelling her head upward - kissing Eli firmly.   
  
He was too shocked to do anything, but lay there straddling her hips. Both had   
  
their eyes opened, and mouths closed; chapped lips against glossed lips. Eli   
  
let go of her; she rolled away from him, and went back to her song, as if nothing   
  
had happened.   
  
Eli was left in a kneeling position on his bed, feeling as though he   
  
had just lost something. So, he stared at the empty space that Grace had just   
  
been laying on. She seemed unfazed by her own actions. Then, she stood up   
  
abruptly.   
  
"Finally!" she announced, turning to face him, "I've finished it."   
  
He turned around, and sat at the end of the bed. Eli simplisitcally   
  
stared at her. Clearly he was befuddled, and Grace was quite pleased that he   
  
was not disgusted.   
  
"Can I hear it?" he mumbled, running a hand through unkempt hair.   
  
"No, but I all ready wrote the music, so just practice that. I've got shit to   
  
do, you know?"   
  
And, Grace left Eli like she had on so many occasions. It was funny to   
  
him, that she could do something so simple and make him want to rip out his own   
  
eyeballs. Groaning, and mumbling inaudible curses, he grabbed his guitar, and   
  
practiced the song she had written a few days ago. Yet, the feel of her torrid   
  
lips against his cool ones, plagued his mind as flocks of birds do the south when   
  
winter befalls.   
  
Grace peeked out behind a curtain; she blanched. Not because of the   
  
amount of people there, but because her Mother was not present. Instantly,   
  
she had seen Jake, with Zoe and Jessie nearby. But, as for Lily and Rick -   
  
not even a trace of them. Something inside of Grace broke. She thought it   
  
was her heart.   
  
The sound of retching brought her out of a state of reverie. She   
  
turned, and saw Ted practically keeled over. He stood up suddenly, wiping   
  
his mouth, looking terribly pale. Coop tossed him a bottle of water, which   
  
Ted inhaled half of it. He walked to stand near Grace.   
  
"So many people, Little Sister. So many promoters - what if we bomb? What if   
  
I puke? What if forget the song? What if . . "  
  
Grace slapped him, lightly, but it still did its job. He looked at her   
  
with an awe struck countenance. Grabbing him by his shoulders, she shook him   
  
forcefully. Then, she turned to face the rest of the band.   
  
"Look, I'm gonna be honest. I have no idea what the hell I am doing. And, I   
  
think that's what makes it so fun. This is just another practice - just fucking   
  
around like we do in the garage. If we fuck up, then we fuck up. But, this is   
  
suppose to be fun, not a job, not a means to live. Right?"   
  
They all nodded their heads, and smiled at Grace. She had brought   
  
them back down to earth, assuring them that this was what they wanted. And,   
  
Grace felt rather selfish because she was re-assuring herself that even if her   
  
Mother was not there, she would be able to sing like she normally did. The cue   
  
for them to come on stage came . . .  
  
Grace had never know that there was so much light in the world   
  
until that very moment. Eventually the lights subsided, and she could   
  
make out her family. But, she realized that Eli was whispering to her.   
  
Turning her head, she found that she had missed the beginning - twice.   
  
Then, the doors burst open, Lily waltzing in, with watery eyes; Rick stood   
  
beside her holding her hand. Grace smiled, and felt a tear drip down her   
  
face - she began to sing . . .   
  
" I'm a little girl with all these dreams.  
  
But, I don't wanna' be consumed by everyone's expectations.   
  
So, I guess this little girl is all you're ever gonna' see.   
  
But, all I want is a little libiation,  
  
To take - to take the chill off your glaring insinuations.   
  
Wish I could grow up;  
  
My soul is older than my body.  
  
It's just never enough,  
  
So, I can't agree,  
  
When a little girl, is all you're ever gonna' see.  
  
I'm a little woman,  
  
But, I don't want to sleep around.  
  
'Cause people like - I can't stand -  
  
And, I'll be damned if I'm gonna' get pushed down.   
  
No, I don't want your advice,  
  
And, I don't want your helpful little reminiscences.   
  
I can't be just - nice,  
  
When you won't even listen - to me.   
  
Wish I could grow up;  
  
My soul is older than my body.  
  
It's just never enough,  
  
So, I can't agree,  
  
When a little girl, is all you're ever gonna' see; when  
  
will you see, that a little girl is not all I'll ever be."   
  
Moments after the song ended, the room burst into applause. Lily   
  
shook her head, through tears formed out of pride. She knew her baby was   
  
good, but when she saw how other other women in the room, nodding their   
  
heads: they all had been through it at one time or another - they understood.   
  
Anti-Inflamatory took a bow, then ran backstage. The next   
  
band yelled their praise as they took the stage. Grace plopped down   
  
on a couch, Eli followed her. She leaned her head on his shoulder,   
  
as he draped an arm around her. Coop and Wink in the meantime were   
  
chatting it up with the all girl band that had came before Anti-Inflamatory.   
  
Ted was still dumb-struck that everything went so smoothely; he sat in a chair   
  
near Eli and Grace.   
  
"Grace?" Eli whispered.  
  
"Hmm?"   
  
She looked up at him, and Eli kissed her. It was not like   
  
the kiss she had given him: it was soft, and warmth from both of them   
  
was shared. But not one of the entire band saw a rather large man making   
  
his way toward them, a smirk on his lips. The night - all in all - had   
  
turned out to be more than mermorable. But, there was still more to come . . . 


	4. A Little While

"Huh?"   
  
Grace knew she sounded terribly idiotic at the moment, but   
  
she had to be sure if what this Tony something or other was saying   
  
was true. Pondering whether or not she had mis-heard him, she   
  
glanced around at her bandmates. They all wore similar expressions:   
  
shock - bewilderment. Grace had to stifle her laughs at them - they   
  
were the ones who looked idiotic, not her.   
  
"We're not a big label or anything, just indie kind of shit. But,   
  
man, girl, you sure can sing - move. Did you see them out there?   
  
They loved you. And, your words weren't just all that bull shit   
  
they play on the radio. You write your own lyrics?" Tony's words   
  
blurred together at the rate he was talking.   
  
Nodding her head, Grace felt a little bit of reality slip back   
  
upon her. Then, it dawned on her - record label - album - going   
  
somewhere other than community college. She cast a subtle glance   
  
at Eli, who seemed to be coming to, as well. One of his legs was   
  
bouncing, and she knew he was only fidgety when he was anxious,   
  
and nervous.   
  
"Of course I don't expect you to make the decision tonight. But,   
  
it would be nice to get you all in the studio as soon as possible.   
  
I think you ought to talk with each other. I mean, you're just   
  
fixing to graduate in a couple of months, and I'm sure that's   
  
important to a girl like you,"   
  
Tony strolled out of the room, idly playing with his wallet   
  
chain. The door closed with a loud thud, causing Grace to suddenly   
  
jump up. Wink followed suit, pickin her up and swinging her around.   
  
It reminded her of just a few days ago when they had gotten the gig.   
  
And, now - and now, she had no clue as to what to do.   
  
"We're gonna' be fuckin' rock stars, Little Sister. And, to think   
  
I'm the one that discovered you," Wink yelled, joyously.   
  
Finally, after Grace felt she had just been on a tilt-a-whirl,   
  
Wink put her down. Feeling a bit numb, Grace silently padded out of   
  
the room, leaving the ecstatic wailings of Ted, Wink, and Coop. She   
  
briskly ambled outside the side exit, feeling around in her baggy   
  
pants that seemed to have a million pockets. Never would she imagine   
  
that she could wear such a thing, but Eli had insisted that they had   
  
looked good on her. And, she did not want to be the odd woman out:   
  
the rest of the guys looked liked they had not done laundry in months.   
  
Plus she always had a thing for baggy pants, and band shirts.   
  
She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, fumbling for   
  
a moment with Eli's zippo. It was Eli that had gotten her started. Both   
  
of them were not addicts - yet. But, she was for certain that at the rate   
  
they were going, they soon would be. The nicotine rushed upon her with   
  
Grace's second inhale, and all the pent up frustration, the adrenaline   
  
of perfoming on stage, and the idea of actually cutting a record seemed   
  
trivial now. All that mattered was the dim street lights shining down   
  
her, the smoke, and finding a comfortable way to lean against the wall   
  
to the building.   
  
The sound of the exit door opening registered in her mind, yet   
  
she chalked it up to it being a roadie, or a lost fan. There were two   
  
bands playing that night: The G. D. B. and Anti-Inflamatory; Anti-Inflamatory   
  
had opened for them. The G. D. B had all ready been sighned to Tony's label,   
  
and were in the midst of finishing off their time in the studio, or so Tony   
  
had rambled on. Pretty soon, she remembered Tony saying, they'll be all   
  
over the fucking place, can you believe that RCA tried to steal them away   
  
from me? Amanda's loyal, as well the rest of the band: I picked them off   
  
from living in dingy hotels and her car - they're mine.   
  
Grace liked The G. D. B a lot. Mainly because Amanda was just   
  
like her. They both read a lot, wrote a lot, played guitar, wrote all   
  
their songs, and in general could have been twins seperated at birth.   
  
Their were some big differences though: Amanda's music was hard - fast   
  
paced, even more punk rock than Grace's. And, while Grace was five-seven,   
  
or eight with long, dark brown hair, Amanda was an endearing five-one and   
  
a half; with short, spikey, blonde-red hair. It made Grace admire Amanda   
  
when she told her that she had graduated two years early. "Child prodigy,   
  
my fucking ass!", she recalled Amanda stating.   
  
They had become rather quick friends when Amanda revealed that   
  
she had cut her own hair with kitchen scissors, and had tried to bleach   
  
her all ready dyed red hair - only to find that it came out a bit orange,   
  
but very good. Grace found absolutely hilarious that G. D. B. stood for   
  
was God-Damned Band. She has a fucking mouth on her, that one does, Grace   
  
thought, then giggled at the obsurdity of her own language.   
  
"Grace?" Eli called, touching her shoulder.   
  
She instantly lit two cigarettes, giving one to him - he took it   
  
without hesitation. They smoked in silence, enjoying the cool air that   
  
whipped against them. They both looked anywhere but at each other. It   
  
was not the kiss, because neither one regretted it, but it was the entire   
  
thought of actually making it somewhere. Ending the solitude of the late   
  
night, Eli spoke . . .  
  
"It's always been my dream,"   
  
"I know,"   
  
"But, we can't force you to, and we just can't along without you,"   
  
"I know,"   
  
"I don't want get along without you,"   
  
"I know that, too," and she practically flung herself at Eli.   
  
The embrace surprised him, to be sure, but it was much welcomed.   
  
He felt as if this was just one elaborate dream, and he needed to hold   
  
something tangible. So, the two held one another, once and a while   
  
breaking for a crevace filled kiss. It did not matter if it was   
  
politicaly incorrect, or that their parents would be outraged.   
  
All that mattered was them, and the moment.   
  
Months flew by, and graduation for Grace came and went.   
  
She had kept a lid on about the deal that would be finalized a week   
  
after the actual ceremony, not mention her relationship with Eli.   
  
It seemed strange that huge chunk of her school was crazy about The   
  
G. D. B. They knew that Anti-Inflamatory, a band she now belonged,   
  
and they opened for them every time they played. Yet, they never   
  
had the thought that Anti-Inflamatory would actually get somewhere.   
  
In fact, the last month of school, she was ostracized by   
  
some of the hardcore punks. They taunted - belittled her, callind   
  
her a "poser" or a "blatant rip-off of G. D. B." At first it had   
  
infuriated her to no extent, but Amanda had given her some really   
  
good advice. Amanda told Grace that everyone calls any rock band   
  
a poser, before and after they made it. It was given: you're not   
  
punk if you have the beliefs but not the clothes, and you're not   
  
punk if you have the clothes, and not the beliefs. What matters  
  
is that you like the music you create, and that's all. Somehow that   
  
simplified it for Grace.   
  
But, now it was near a week after graduation, and Grace   
  
stood gracefully by the refridgerator, banging her head on the   
  
door. Eli sat at the kitchen table, watching her movements in   
  
amusement mainly. With one last, loud thud, Grace ambled over   
  
to join him.   
  
"I hate performing new songs," she stated   
  
"We're just opening for them,"   
  
"Yeah," Grace scoffed, "and by next week we'll be on tour with them,   
  
opening for them every night they play."   
  
"But, after we get back we record, then we," he emphasized the we   
  
with a raise of his eyebrow, "go on tour. Pretty sweet, no?"   
  
"But, what if I can't write anymore songs? What if the inspiration   
  
just flies the fuck out the window? Will you still want me to be lead singer?"   
  
"Of course, now play it for me," he said, and planted a kiss a top her head.   
  
They clung to each other as they made their way to the   
  
garage. Instantly Grace picked up her guitar, picking it a bit   
  
- making sure it was in tune. And, just before she started the   
  
song for him, Grace decided she would play every song for Eli first . . .  
  
"Baby, let me hold you -  
  
Just for a little while.   
  
Come on and let me hide -   
  
Just for a little while.  
  
I'd write you a river: I'll be your Bonnie,  
  
If you'd be my Clyde;  
  
I'd write you a dawn,  
  
If you take me from this life.   
  
Baby, just let me touch you -   
  
Just for a little while.  
  
Come on, let me kiss you -   
  
Just for a little while.   
  
I'd drown for you: I'll be your Ophelia,  
  
If you'd be my Hamlet,  
  
I'll drive myself insane,  
  
If you keep me from being the bane of my existence.   
  
So, baby, please let me hold you -   
  
Just for a little while.   
  
Come on and let me hide -   
  
Just for a little while.   
  
So, baby let me touch you -  
  
Just one last time.   
  
Come on, and let me hide -   
  
Just one last time." 


End file.
